


Nightmares & Dreams

by sonofabitch_awesome



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Has Issues, Dean Has Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, I felt like I was writing a SLOTAT episode, M/M, Nightmares, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape/Non-con Elements, There is entirely too much talking in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3810349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonofabitch_awesome/pseuds/sonofabitch_awesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when the attacker in your nightmare is the person you love?<br/>How do you react in reality?<br/>-<br/>Beginning contains a non-explicit description of rape/attempted rape. It's in italics, so skip if you need to. Be safe <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares & Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> **All text in the beginning that is in _ITALICS_ is the rape nightmare.** I realize I'm spoilering my own story a little, but I would REALLY rather people were safely warned than risk triggering anybody. Stay safe.  <3
> 
> Rated Mature only for the nightmare. The rest is General. Maybe Teen for language?

_He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this. He didn’t—_

“No, no, don’t—Sto—” _The end of the word was trapped as a hand pressed over his mouth tightly, covering part of his nostrils in the process. He struggled for breath, air hissing noisily over the side of the hand._

 _He didn’t_ want _this!_

_He clamped his eyes shut, squeezing them closed so hard he felt the muscles in his forehead protest. Desperately, he tried to pull his knee back to kick at the man over him, but his attacker anticipated this and held his calf down painfully against the back of his thigh. “Not gonna be that easy,” a voice rasped._

_If only his hands were free…_

Stop stop please stop, _he tried to say against the palm over his mouth, the words soft from lack of air. He had to give up begging for help for favor of sucking in oxygen through the narrow airway he was allowed._

_He kept his eyes clenched against the image of the man hurting him. In a million years, he never would have imagined… That Cas could ever…_

_“You know you want this, Dean,” the voice growled. “Dean…”_

“Dean? Dean!”

Dean’s eyes flew open, and he stared at the ceiling above as he adjusted to the shock of sudden consciousness. There was a hand on his chest, not restraining. He shoved it off anyway, a subtle shaking racing down his shoulders and arms.

He was still gasping for breath. His pounding heart was actually audible in the silence.

“Dean?”

He glanced over. Cas was propped up on one elbow, looking at him in concern. Involuntarily, Dean scooted back, putting some distance between them. 

A shadow crossed Cas’s face. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” His hand still sort of hovered above the covers, as if he wanted to reach over to comfort Dean again but was afraid of his reaction.

“N-nothing,” Dean muttered, shaking his head. “Nightmare. I’m—Just a nightmare.” He didn’t meet Cas’s eyes.

“You’re okay now,” Cas said, finally giving up and pulling his arm back to rest along his side. “I tried waking you for so long, but I couldn’t—I’m—I’m sorry.”

Dean ran his fingers through his hair, realizing absently that it was half-soaked in sweat. He dragged one arm over his forehead to check, and yep, slippery. “Gross. I’m—I’m gonna go shower, I think,” he said, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“It’s five something in the morning,” Cas protested from behind him.

“Yeah, well, no time like the present,” Dean said as he stood up, turning back at the doorway. He offered a weak smile. “I’m okay. All right?”

Cas narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but nodded. “I love you.”

“You too,” Dean said, his words sounding a fraction weaker than he’d meant them to be. 

-

Dean didn’t come back to bed after the shower. Castiel waited until he was absolutely sure Dean was probably done, and then he left their bedroom to check on him.

He stood helplessly at the closed door, listening to the sound of water on the other side. He lifted one fist and knocked, once, twice. “Dean?”

No answer.

Castiel knocked a little harder. “Are you okay in there?”

There was a brief pause. Then—“Fine, Cas, go back to bed.”

“You’ve been in there for an hour and a half,” Castiel protested.

“I said I’m fine,” Dean called back.

Castiel lowered his fist. Dean was in one of his moods, apparently, and the more he tried to pull him out of it, the worse the mood would be. As much as it tore at Castiel, he had to respect Dean’s wishes and leave him alone. Dean would open up only when he was ready. 

“Okay,” he called through the door. “I’m going to go get breakfast ready.” 

“I want an omelet,” Dean yelled. “And bacon.” 

Castiel smiled through his worry. Some things were comfortingly routine.

-

Dean had actually finished the actual showering part of things in the first ten minutes, but the water felt so good that he didn’t want to leave the bathroom. He’d lost track of time completely, staring at the shower wall in front of him for so long that his vision started disappearing.

He blinked away the fuzziness, shaking his head. 

It wasn’t Cas. It had _never_ been Cas. Cas would never hurt him like that.

Except… he sort of had. Not sexually, obviously, but physically. He’d beaten the hell out of Dean twice. Once almost killing him.

Dean’s legs felt shaky, so he slowly lowered himself to the floor of the shower and sat with his knees bent up in front of him. He wrapped his arms around his legs and tried to focus only on the water still hitting his back and scattering over his hair.

Circumstances. He had to remember the circumstances. 

Okay, yes, the first time had been Cas _actually_ losing his temper and hurting him out of anger. But could he really blame the guy? Dean had been about to say yes to frigging Michael, to stamp his approval on the planet-wide battle and volunteer to get the party started.

And the second time wasn’t even _him_! Not really. It had been Naomi rewiring his programming, trying her damnedest to pull the strings she knew would hurt Cas the most. And if she got a Winchester out of the way, hell, bonus. All she’d really had to do would be to insist Cas simply leave with the angel tablet. There was no reason to force him to kill Dean.

It had almost worked. Dean knew if that had been any other angel standing over him with a blade, he would have gone down swinging. But it was _Cas_ , and he knew at the time that Cas really wouldn’t be able to go through with it. 

It wasn't Cas. He knew that. He _knew_ that. 

So why was he still in here?

-

Sam walked into the kitchen as the bacon was nearly finished. “Morning, Cas,” he said, yawning. 

Castiel glanced over. “Good morning,” he said, still worrying about Dean. 

“So, like, how long has Dean been in the shower, because there has to be _zero_ hot water left at this point?” Sam scratched the back of his neck and wandered over to the plates assembled on the preparing table. “You made a veggie one for me? Hey, thanks." 

“I don’t know,” Castiel murmured, talking more to the stove than to his friend. “He had a nightmare and ran off before I could talk to him.”

Sam picked up his plate. “Give him time. You know he’s stubborn as hell,” he advised with a sympathetic smile. “That’s about all we can do at this point.”

“I know, I j…” Castiel reached for his own cup of coffee and stared down into its tan surface. “I’m worried about him. He… Sam, if you saw the way he looked at me when he got up…” 

“You know how he is.” Sam watched Castiel put bacon on Dean’s plate next to the ham and cheese omelet. “Couple more,” he suggested. “And yeah, he has this tendency to hide stuff from us when he feels like he should deal with it himself. It’s annoying, but we gotta wait him out.”

Castiel turned the stove off, and they took everything out to the table in time for Dean to walk out and greet them. “Hey, guys,” he said, his hair still a little damp. “Sorry I took so long. Uh, lost track of time.”

Sam shrugged. “No problem. I’ll just shower another day or something.” He smirked, but Castiel noticed a flash of concern in his eyes that he couldn’t quite cover with casual banter.

They ate in silence for several minutes. After a while, Dean looked up, meeting Castiel’s gaze. “Hey, um, sorry about earlier,” he said awkwardly.

Castiel hoped he didn’t look overly concerned as he spoke. “You’re fine, Dean. Nightmares can be bothersome sometimes.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. It, uh… yeah.” No elaboration. He returned his attention to his plate.

Sam glanced back and forth between them and narrowed his eyes a fraction, frown lines appearing on his forehead.

The rest of breakfast passed in silence again.

-

Sam volunteered to work on the dishes afterward, and as Cas and Dean stood up to leave, he stopped his brother. “Hey, Dean? I need to talk to you about something,” he announced.

Dean raised his eyebrows. He glanced over at Cas for a half second.

“It’s not—I mean, it’s…” Sam opened and closed his mouth, unable to figure out how request an aside without offending Cas.

Cas caught on and offered a way out. “It’s fine, Sam, I actually wanted to get back to my book,” he said, taking a step back. “I’ll be in the library.”

“Okay, Cas,” Dean said, clapping him on the back – a little too hard; Cas flinched a little.

When they were alone, Dean joined Sam at the sink. Wordlessly they divided up the work into Sam washing and Dean rinsing. They didn’t often share jobs like this, but when they did, it tended to bring back memories of Dean teaching Sam how to do it right when they were younger. 

Sam smiled. “Remember how I used to leave soap all the time?”

“How could I forget?” Dean asked with a soft laugh. “I used to make sure I washed my own stuff right after I was done with it for fear of you getting your hands on them.” He set a glass upside down in the drainer. 

“And it took you a few months to figure out I was screwing up on purpose,” Sam added. 

Dean looked over. “I know what you’re doing. We can skip the whole memory-lane awkward segue into what’s going on.”

Sam nodded and scrubbed at the pan that had held the bacon. He used the extra time needed on this one to let the silence prod Dean into speech. Nothing he said would work any better, anyway.

“I, um…” With nothing to rinse for the time being, Dean grasped the edge of the sink and stared down into the water. “I had a nightmare.”

“Do you—wanna talk about it?” Sam asked, chancing a glimpse at his brother’s profile. Nightmares were fairly routine for them, especially considering all that they’d been through, but this one seemed different for Dean. He had a feeling it had something to do with Cas, judging by the way Dean had been acting around him.

Dean’s shoulders were slumped, and his expression was pensive as he watched the water flow and spiral down the drain in his sink section. “Not really. Not in depth, anyway.”

Sam really couldn’t fiddle with the bacon pan any longer without scratching it, so he handed it to his brother. “Cas is worried about you. I am too.”

“It was _about_ Cas,” Dean finally admitted, rinsing the pan and talking without looking over at Sam. “Um. He was. He was.” He didn’t have to go on. But he didn’t have to.

Sam let his breath out. “Wow. I’m sorry,” he said. 

“Yeah.” Dean swallowed, the muscles of his throat working. “I am too. I don’t know how the hell to react. I know it wasn’t him. But…”

“It felt real,” finished Sam. He stepped over to the coffeepot. “You want any more coffee? Cause I’m gonna…”

Dean shook his head, still not meeting Sam’s eyes. “No, go ahead.”

“Okay.”

The coffeepot and coffee cups were the last things that needed washing. Once everything was in the drainer, Sam pulled the stopper and turned to lean back against the edge of the sink. “So what’re you gonna do?”

“I don’t… What is there _to_ do?” Dean shrugged helplessly. “It was a damn dream. My own subconscious torturing me for God only knows what reason. Just gotta forget it and move on.”

“You were skittish around him, though,” Sam said, drumming the pads of his fingertips against the lip of the counter behind him. “You should probably talk to him about it and explain why.”

Dean made a face. “Are you kidding? ‘Hey Cas, I had a nightmare about you, I’m scared’? How pathetic would that be?”

“Dean.” His brother looked over. “You _are_ scared. And if you keep this bottled up, it’ll keep eating at you.”

“I know,” Dean exhaled, chewing the edge of his lip. “Truth is, it brought back some of the other stuff. The alley. The crypt.”

“Yeah, I… That’s rough.” Sam crossed his arms. “Those were… Certain circumstances, you know? And things are different now. I mean, he’s human. No bitch angel is brainwashing him.”

“Don’t you think I _know_ all that?” Dean demanded. “That’s why I was so long in the shower. I kept arguing with myself. Going ‘It was a nightmare.’ ‘Yeah, but he’s done shit before.’ ‘Yeah, but there were reasons for it that can’t be duplicated now.’ On and on until there’s a third voice going ‘Hey, you stay in this cold water any longer, you’re gonna freeze your nuts off.’”

Sam gave a charitable laugh, though the joke really wasn’t funny right now. “Talk to him, okay? Tell him all of that.” 

He watched Dean’s shoulders lift and fall slowly as his brother took a deep breath. “All right. All right, I’ll tell him.”

“The sooner, the better,” Sam added.

Dean glared at him out of the corner of his eye, but nodded.

-

“Okay, what’s going on, Dean?” Cas asked softly once they were alone in their bedroom.

Dean swallowed and sat on the foot of the bed. “My—my nightmare,” he began.

Rather than sit on the bed with Dean, Cas dragged the chair closer to him and took a seat. He sat with his elbows on his knees, leaning in to listen without reaching for Dean. “It was about me… wasn’t it?” he questioned, his voice so faint Dean almost didn’t hear him.

“Yeah, Cas.” Dean realized he had his fingers up to his mouth and that he was gnawing on the edge of one nail. He pulled his hand away and sat on it. “You…”

“Did I die, or…?” When Dean looked at Cas’s face, he knew that Cas didn’t really believe that. A hint of fear had darkened his face. A trace of self-judgment.

Dean had to say it. If he didn’t, they’d keep dancing around the subject, or Dean would end up lying and saying yeah, it was about Cas dying, and then he’d never be able to deal. He shut his eyes. “You were attacking me. You were—you were raping me.”

A sharp exhalation of breath. 

They sat in quiet for a short while, and then Dean opened his eyes. Cas was hanging his head, gaze locked on the floor and shaking his head slightly. “Cas?” he uttered.

Cas lifted his head, looking at him searchingly.

“I know it wasn’t you.” Dean offered a weak smile. “Just my subconscious spitting back mixed memories of Hell. Hey, maybe it could have gone the other way and I’d have dreamed of a demon _rescuing_ me from y—from something.” He tried to laugh, but it came out more as a vague grunt than anything else.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” When Dean opened his mouth to protest the apology, Cas held a hand up. “I’m not apologizing for what my dream self did. I mean, I _would_ , but I have no control over him and we both know that. I’m apologizing that it happened at all.”

“It felt so real.” Dean felt his eyebrows lift slightly. He hadn’t know that was what he was going to say until it was out.

Cas nodded. “I’m sure it did. But Dean, you have to know I would never hurt you.”

Dean glanced at the floor. 

“Dean?”

He looked back up. Thoughts of the crypt, of the alley, swirled insistently in his mind, but he didn’t want to mention them. They were in the past. They wouldn’t be happening again. Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, Cas.”

Cas gazed at him and took a deep breath. “I am sorry I _did_ hurt you, those times.” He shut his eyes, as if trying to block out the memories himself. “I can’t—”

“No, it’s okay,” Dean interrupted. “I’ve already gone over this with Sam, I know things were dif—”

“But I was—”

They spoke at the same time, then broke off simultaneously. Dean laughed awkwardly. “You go,” he urged, shifting to pull his left leg up on the bed. 

Cas sighed. “Dean, the first… When I was human the first time around, my first nightmare…” He stared at something over Dean’s shoulder. “It was about you. It was about what I did to you. The crypt.”

“Fucking Naomi,” Dean muttered.

“I know. But still.” Cas shook his head. “I _hate_ that I hurt you. And I would never want to hurt you, ever.” He didn’t say _again_ , but Dean could tell that he wanted to.

Dean reached one hand forward for Cas’s. Their fingers interlocked, and he rubbed the pad of his thumb down along Cas’s. “Cas, it was just a nightmare,” he said quietly. “I’ll be okay. I’ve had nightmares before.”

Cas didn’t say anything, seemingly content to watch Dean stroke his thumb. 

“Let me ask you something, huh?” Cas didn’t look up at him, so he went on. “What would you do if you had the same nightmare, about me? Would you really, down-deep, be afraid of me?”

Cas lifted his head. “No, not at—” He broke off and paused. “Dean. It’s not the same.”

Dean tightened his grip on Cas’s hand and pulled it closer. “Come here. Come sit with me,” he said, and Cas did. He rested his free hand on Cas’s shoulder. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m really—I’m not. I know you.” He realized as he said it that it was true. Sure, the nightmare had unsettled him, but if he really searched within himself, he knew that he'd been more affected by the dream itself, by what his subconscious had concocted, than by _Cas_. Even dream Cas.

Cas smiled softly. “I know you, too, Dean. And I love you.”

“You too,” Dean said, so fast they both laughed. He took a deep breath. "I'll be okay, I will. Give me like a day or so." He glanced over at the head of the bed. "Lay down with me?"

They climbed up along the bed and lied down together, Cas holding Dean in his arms, like he was still concerned about the nightmare affecting him. Dean was sprawled half-over him, resting his head on Cas’s chest and listening to the steady _thump… thump… thump…_ of his heart. 

This, right here? This quiet peace? Cas’s body warmth beneath him, and the reassuring weight of his arms around him? This was all he wanted in this moment. It reminded him that he had nightmares, yes, but he also had good dreams too. And a good damn waking life, to boot.


End file.
